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“
ln Memory
Phillip Blood
Richard Bradbury
Richard Searcy
Willie Walker
Death, Be Not Proud
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:
For those, whom thou thinkist thou dost overthrow,
Die not. poor Death, nor yet eanst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more, must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy or charms, can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke. Why Swelllst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more, Death, thou shalt die.
aj ohn Donne.
O7
”
